


There's Always One You Can't Forget

by InkyKinky



Series: Confessions [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Awkwardness, Declarations Of Love, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Iwa-chan probably isn't aware that he actually loves Tooru very much, M/M, Misunderstandings, Music, Mutually Unrequited, actually a one-shot that got extended further, at least they think so, emotional pining, idk how to tag this, it's actually a lot of musing from Tooru's side, iwaoi - Freeform, which may or may not work out
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-05 10:27:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5371925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkyKinky/pseuds/InkyKinky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was a song he had to listen to a thousand times to fall in love with, he didn’t know why, but maybe that made it even more special to him, because that was how he had always been.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Oh! That Cello

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know. Originally a one-shot and now... it's just _something_ and it constantly grows.  
>  Now even with a matching playlist [[x](https://inkykinky.tumblr.com/post/141601406990/)]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this at 2 a.m. and I'm not the slightest bit sorry.  
> Also the first fic I actually finished for Haikyuu!! so I'm curious how y'all gonna take this heh... ((also not proof-read because, well, it's 5 a.m. now and I just really wanna get it out there))
> 
> I also have [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/inky_thoughts) and [tumblr](http://inkythoughts-art.tumblr.com)

Tooru had never thought of himself as a Classic _lover_. After two years of violin lessons he had given up because he saw his talent in something entirely different. Maybe it angered him a little how he couldn’t feel determined enough to keep it going, but volleyball was something different. Something he could be fighting for. It was odd if he thought about it like that, since he wasn’t exactly bad, just not dedicated enough.

Anyway, it was stupid to say Classic lover. Music lover, music admirer more like, since aesthetic could be found in any style of music. And modern Classic wasn’t something he favoured at all, so there was that.

No, he adored music, more in a silent, private way, a secret love maybe. And he loved Chaplin.

He had envied his older sister twice in his life, once when she seemed to play entirely effortlessly Chaplin’s songs in fifth, sixth, seventh position and higher, and how she was gifted with the talent to make her cello sing that it gave him goosebumps on his arms every time. Theoretically, he could’ve played Chaplin on his violin, but a cello, his sister’s cello, made it sound entirely different and so much more beautifully.

Currently, he was listening to a record she had made for his birthday, a waltz that he’d grown fond of over the time, and her second record, a solo, was one key lower than the original, and so much richer in its colour. This was a song he had to listen to a thousand times to fall in love with, he didn’t know why, but maybe that made it even more special to him because that was how he had always been.

When he fell in love, it was slow, but so deep that he could feel the burning depths of hell open up in his chest when he realized. He always realized it slowly. This special note he anticipated, a motive he grew fond of, the arcs spanning over the metre and creating a dance of melodies, one of the rare smiles… Tooru sighed.

“What are you listening to?” Iwaizumi asked. Tooru turned away slightly just to peer at his best friend next to him with doe eyes. Of course. Of course Ha- _Iwaizumi_ would ask something like that. Of course he’d notice anything that’s off. Like the pink on Tooru’s cheeks. How could he not?

“Music, Iwa-chan, what else?” He tried his trademark smile, but he wasn’t sure it worked. “Do you wanna…?” Tooru offered Iwaizumi one of his earplugs. The other boy – _man?_ Tooru wasn’t sure what they were, really – just shrugged and took it, almost tearing the other earplug out of Tooru’s ear with the movement. Always a little rough around the edges, small slip-ups that made the song the more charming.

 _Was he really just comparing Hajime with his favourite songs?_ Tooru inwardly face-palmed himself.

But it was true. He couldn’t not love Hajime – there it was again, _Hajime_. Tooru had tried a lot to forget that name, it made it all the more intimate, made him feel closer than life-long friends should be, than they were, because it had always been Iwa-chan. He had known about Hajime’s given name probably since the moment they had met, and yet, for such a long time, it was so unimportant. Per accident he heard it, realized the nice ring to it, and he couldn’t look at Hajime the same way again.

Hajime. First.

It was mean how even his name had claimed Tooru’s heart, and yes he was the first, though not how Tooru had wanted it.

His first kiss was a girl called Yuu, and he had wished it was someone else. He was fourteen and he knew that much. The first who made him gasp breathlessly was a girl called Aiko. She was pretty, very pretty, but she didn’t stay long, maybe she had sensed his inner turmoil, maybe she didn’t need much. And then there was Hajime. Hajime, rough and mean Hajime, the boy with a golden heart, and _gods_ , how could he not love him.

It was a song played a million times, the touches and those which didn’t dare to be, the pats on his back, the raise in his voice, the synch on the court, small slip-ups and a rare smile.

The insults.

They stung. They stung a lot, and Tooru meant it when he said Hajime was mean.

And still. Still it somehow belonged to him, to them, and Tooru would be worried about his best friend should he not hear it one day. Sometimes he even provoked it, because some days it was the only words Iwaizumi would speak to him. Those days scared him.

Yes, Hajime was rough, he was, and Tooru would be lying if he’d say otherwise, yet there was something so fragile hidden behind Hajime’s shell, so beautiful and delicate, and Tooru worried about hurting him a lot. He needed him. He couldn’t give up on him, and yet he had, a long time ago.

Every now and then he had wondered if it was just platonic, maybe his hormones running wild because that’s just normal, right? Now, he knew better, and it hurt to be so close and yet so far.

He smiled as Hajime asked what song it was and whether it was his sister playing.

“There’s always one you can’t forget, Hajime.” He hadn’t realized which name he had used, and now that he did, he couldn't care anymore.

There was silence in their train wagon, just the music playing in their earplugs, their cart empty in the night. Tooru felt Hajime’s eyes on him, but he didn’t dare to look. No, not into those piercing black eyes that seemed to find their way underneath his skin every time, that seek out to find his bare soul under all those layers of smiles and laughs and ridiculous nicknames.

“You’re thinking about someone, Tooru.” Hajime’s voice gave Tooru goosebumps. It was low and with his name on his lips – Tooru was about to cry.

“Yes,” he whispered, a lost, sheepish smile tried to cover his sadness. Was he so easy to see through?

“Who?”

Tooru could feel Hajime’s breath on his skin, they were so close, and he dreaded to turn his head a little to the right because how could he hold back, and yet he did.

They were inches apart, so close, an yet an invisible barrier seemed to hold them back, hold them into place. Tooru couldn’t hide the sadness in his eyes when he observed the face in front of him, chewed on his lip, a habit he had picked up mainly to annoy Hajime.

“The first. Always the first, Hajime,” he replied with a forced smile, and averted his eyes again.

Maybe he’d eventually figure it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm.  
> So bad at this. Maybe it'll make click in Iwa's head at some point, I really hope it does. I'm playing this song Tooru is talking about in my cello lesson as well, that's basically how I got the idea this night (I slowly get the hang of 5th position but fuck everything highter, so yes my teacher told me to do it one key lower first and it sounds really nice) *peace sign emoji* ((gotta find you the song on youtube at some time or record it myself since I couldn't find something decent, thanks GEMA))
> 
> Also please leave a comment & kudos if you liked it (you also can comment if you didn't like it, and tell me why btw), it would mean a lot to me, thanks!!
> 
> I also have [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/inky_thoughts) and [tumblr](http://inkythoughts-art.tumblr.com)


	2. Do I Wanna Know? Pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Have you got colour in your cheeks?  
> Do you ever get that fear that you can't shift  
> The type that sticks around like something in your teeth?  
> Are there some aces up your sleeve?  
> Have you no idea that you're in deep?  
> I dreamt about you nearly every night this week  
> How many secrets can you keep?  
> 'Cause there's this tune I found that makes me think of you somehow and I play it on repeat  
> Until I fall asleep  
> Spilling drinks on my settee  
> \- _Do I Wanna Know?_ by Arctic Monkeys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Iwa's POV of the first chapter.  
> [I would advice you to listen to Hozier's cover of that song because it is even more melancholic, though the original actually suits Iwa-chan pretty well, I think?]  
> I just  
> why is there so much angst and pain idek where it all comes from... I hope you like it though ^w^
> 
> ((btw, feedback would be really really great ouo))

Oikawa sighed, his eyes distant, staring into nothingness behind the train window, into darkness. He probably was tired, overdone himself once again, not as though Hajime had told him not to. At times he wanted to see what Oikawa saw in the distance, what he thought, where his mind travelled to.

Sometimes he was scared of Oikawa’s destination, as though he didn’t really want to know. But he did. He wanted to bring him back before Oikawa slipped entirely away from reality and caged himself up in his head, but he wanted to see this place of his, this magical place that offered this star of a boy a much needed sanctuary. It still was a dangerous place, and Hajime was on the brick to rip out Oikawa’s earplugs, but he hesitated.

“What are you listening to?”

Oikawa drew his head slowly towards him, his eyes tired, the distance between them not quite vanishing despite how close they sat together. A slight blush tinted Oikawa’s skin before he flashed him a bright smile, too bright and teasing for Oikawa’s mood.

“Music, Iwa-chan, what else?”

If Hajime hadn’t been this worried for Oikawa’s well-being, he would have laughed. But he did not. He didn’t feel like laughing for quite a while now. He couldn’t even be mad at Oikawa for the ridiculous nick-name he still didn’t drop, after years and years that Hajime had complained.

“Do you wanna…?” Oikawa offered him one of his earplugs, this time his smile mild and honest, and Hajime shrugged when he took the earplug, while it meant so much more to him. Of course he nearly had to tear Oikawa’s earplug out as well, but luckily he didn’t seem to be bothered too much. It didn’t help Hajime’s blush though.

It was embarrassing how clumsy he was with those things. Volleyball at least didn’t mind roughness if the angle was right, but this… this was something else. He felt like a bull in a china shop.

After some shuffling, he finally had adjusted the plug, his ears only half as red as they were just moments ago, and he listened. It was something Classical, something Tooru didn’t listen to when they were at Tooru’s house. Hajime pondered over the last time they shared headphones, because he knew that Tooru had a whole playlist with songs just for Hajime, mainly because he wasn’t very fond of the too-cute-and-poppy tunes Tooru listened to usually. But this wasn’t anything like that. He knew that Tooru’s sister played in a professional orchestra, and of course Tooru’s parents loved Classical, a reason for Tooru to be pouty and a snotty rebellious son about this, sneering at their music taste. Apparently, when nobody was watching, the fondness of Classical ran in the family, whether Tooru wanted or not. Oikawa. _Shittykawa._

He furrowed his eyebrows, mentally drilling holes with his eyes into his brain. Of course this didn’t work, but it was a reminder to his brain that it should stop acting up. They were men, after all, no preschoolers.

The song was soft, mainly because it was probably only one instrument playing it, but with a strong pull, drive, dancing rhythm, maybe a waltz, Hajime really had no idea about music if he was honest, and it reminded him so much in Tooru. _Oikawa._

It was beautiful.

_Shit._

“What’s this called? S’ your sister playing, right?” Hajime didn’t know why he said this, maybe because of how soft and pure Oikawa’s expression looks, so open and vulnerable. It usually had something to do with people he really really adored and cared for. Someone he was fond of, in the deepest ways. Oikawa smiled sadly when he heard Hajime’s question.

“There’s always one you can’t forget, Hajime,” he replied, and Hajime’s heart stopped for a second by the mention of his name. _His_ name. No Iwa-chan. No teasing. It was so simple, just a mention deep in thoughts, but still. At the same time Hajime felt embarrassed for his horribly blunt question. Like he couldn’t phrase it any better, just a bit more graceful. He wanted to cry.

There was so much he didn’t understand, he didn’t know; he didn’t know why Oikawa looked so sad. This was reserved entirely for when he was alone, when nobody, not even Hajime, was meant to see him, with the difference that Hajime did. Sometimes, he didn’t know what hurt more: to watch Oikawa suffer, or that Oikawa didn’t want him to know. And Hajime knew that Oikawa was suffering right now, it was in the line of his mouth, the tight swallow, and the slight absence of his eyes that were just so minimally different to usual, and Hajime didn’t know why.

Practice wasn’t bad today. There weren’t any matches coming soon, or someone questioning their future. Hajime had always been in earshot of Tooru that day. It couldn’t be this. _There’s always one you can’t forget_ , right?

“You’re thinking about someone, Tooru.”

Hajime didn’t heard himself talk, just knew that his lips were moving, that it was painful to watch, he wanted to know what was happening, with Tooru, with himself, _he wanted to understand –_

“Yes,” Tooru whispered, and it got harder not to cry because of this weird pain in his chest, hard not to carress his cheeks and every tear that threatened to drop from Tooru’s eyes. Hajime was certain it only was a matter of seconds that they’d finally spill over. At least his own.

“Who?” Hajime still barely recognised his own voice, so broken, so full of hurt it sounded in his ears, and he didn’t know why. At that moment he wasn’t even sure if he really wanted to know the answer.

“The first. Always the first, Hajime,” Tooru said, so calm, so unshaken, and Hajime _couldn’t understand._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huehuehuehue~  
> Maybe if y'all nice and stuff I'll upload the second part to this too :9
> 
> tbh the song still fits Tooru better I AM SCREAMING I WILL CRY AT THIS SONG FOREVER NOW THANK GOODB Y E
> 
> [I also have tumblr [[1](http://inkythoughts-art.tumblr.com)] [[2](http://inkykinky.tumblr.com)] and [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/inky_thoughts) & I also really really love kudos and any other form of feedback ((like comments)) @u@]


	3. Do I Wanna Know? Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do I wanna know  
> If this feeling flows both ways?  
> Sad to see you go  
> Was sort of hoping that you'd stay  
> Baby we both know  
> That the nights were mainly made for saying things that you can't say tomorrow day  
> \- _Do I Wanna Know_ by Arctic Monkeys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yeah, I'm back witH EVEN MORE ANGSTY IWAOI, REJOICE.
> 
> I told you I'd write a sequel. Now it's the sequel of the sequel and the boys talk to each other and I'm still screaming at my hands because wtf.

There was silence for the rest of their ride. Tooru wasn’t sure what songs were playing, but Hajime didn’t ask him about them. It wasn’t what he was used to from Tooru though. These were the darker dips of his soul, not the rock stuff he usually shared with Hajime, or the J-Pop purely to annoy him. Seriously, Tooru lost track of the things he did just to piss Hajime off. He wanted his attention. _Needed_ his attention. It was embarrassing to admit, but how could he deny it. He wasn’t sure whether he liked the silence between them or not.

Hajime seemed to simply stare through him, pondering, maybe lost in thoughts, something very unusual.

Finally, their stop came, and Tooru collected his school and shopping bags, disconnecting Hajime and himself from the music with a sigh.

They were silent as they walked from the stop, Tooru barely registered Hajime’s goodbye when they had to part for their respective houses. He nodded absent-mindedly, but something felt oddly wrong. When he looked up, Hajime was still standing there, facing him, his mouth opened as though he wanted to speak but couldn’t find words.

“Good night, Iwa-chan,” Tooru said with a pressed smile, without the smallest attempt to make it look casual, normal. Hajime’s been too good at reading him by now anyway.

“Tooru.” It was a mere whisper, rough and weirdly shallow, and Tooru’s eyes flew up to meet Hajime’s, too scared to move, like a deer in the headlights.

“Yes?” Tooru hated how broken his voice sounded, raspy, tired. He stared at the ground again.

“Why… why do you hide so much? Why do you– why do you still act in front of me? We’ve been friends for basically my whole life, why do you still do this?”

Out of all things, Tooru hadn’t expected this.

“I… I don’t–” Tooru started, surprised to even hear his own voice because it was so timid, so quiet, but Hajime interrupted him.

“Don’t talk bullshit, Shittykawa!”

“Why do you always have to be so mean?”

Tooru hadn’t realised how desperate he sounded, how serious he _wanted_ to sound to Hajime until it was too late, and his plea was now hanging between them, and Hajime stared at him, expression unreadable.

“Oh shut it, Assikawa!” Hajime groaned then, as though this was just another one of his antics, “Don’t evade my questions like that!”

“Then don’t ignore mine!” Tooru spluttered out, so close to tears again that his face heated up uncomfortably, his throat tightening.

There was a pause in which Hajime just stared at him, maybe not expecting such an outburst, but apparently it wasn’t enough to make him _understand._

“It – it hurts when you – y-you call me like that, every time, a-and it’s – it’s only me, but I know that’s – that’s probably what men do with their friends, b-best friends, but it still hurts and makes me feel like – yes, _shit_ , basically, and… I don’t know, maybe it just hurts more coming from you, maybe it’d be nothing if you didn’t mean so much to me, because you _do_ mean a lot to me, and I don’t want that to change, but I feel so goddamn worthless, and I just.” For a short moment, Tooru prouded himself that he didn't sob, that his voice was dry, but his voice diminished as Hajime stared at him more and more intensely in shock. Maybe he sounded weak, yes, but wasn’t that Hajime’s view of things right from the start? What damage could it do now anyway.

“You just… wouldn’t listen,” Hajime whispered suddenly, and Tooru didn’t know what hurt more, the strained voice or the pained eyes. “You are so self-destructive you don’t even notice anymore, you don’t notice when it’s too much, I’m just taking care of you–”

“SO DO I!”

Tooru didn’t mean to yell. He didn’t mean to cry either.

And yet, he did.

“There are things you’re not _supposed_ to see, Iwa-chan, the world has so many ugly faces, _I_ have so many ugly faces, you shouldn’t know, why don’t you _understand_ –”

“I want to. I _try_ to. But _you don’t let me_ –”

“Can’t you imagine why?” _Why were they so close, why was Tooru’s voice so shrill, so hysterical?_ He was about to fist into Hajime's shirt and shake him, grip him tight, make him understand, make him see… But he couldn't. _  
_

“No,” Hajime whispered with sadness in his undertones, “I’ve never been as brilliant as you, Tooru. Maybe I’m just – I’m just too dumb to _get it_ , or – or too insensitive, too unobservant, maybe I’m the wrong person for – for all of this, but I really, really wish I could be that person for you, someone to confide in, because I _hate_ to see you suffer under whatever the fuck you think you need to carry alone. I – I want to be the one who stays with you ‘til the end.”

Tooru didn’t know whether it was the tears, or his general nakedness in front of Hajime, or the fact that Hajime’s voice was so low and weirdly sensual, that he desperately craved for just _something_ from Hajime’s side.

“W-would you really stay, no matter what?” he asked. So weak, he felt so weak.

“No matter what.”

“E-even if – if I killed someone?” He probably sounded too teasing for the mood, but it made Hajime bite back a grin.

“I guess, yeah.”

“Cheating? Stealing? Just, really, the worst thing you could imagine, you’d stay with me, yeah?” He felt awkward for asking, for sounding so unsure about Hajime's loyalty, which was ridiculous but he couldn't help it. This shouldn’t ignite such a giant flame of hope inside of Tooru’s chest, and yet it did.

“Yeah.”

Tooru studied Hajime’s face as closely as possible, not the slightest trace of dishonesty. He was almost pulling back, he was risking too much, this couldn't be good, and yet, he needed to know, he yearned for this.

“No hard feelings whatsoever?”

“No. You could probably get away with anything.”

Tooru nodded.

“Okay.”

With a shaky inhale, he leaned forward, his eyes fluttering shut, and he closed the distance between their lips with a soft, very soft kiss.

He knew Hajime froze. He didn’t dare to linger in the contact either, instead he pulled away just as quick, his glance shifting to the ground once again, his cheeks pink from embarrassment and the butterflies in his stomach that didn’t seem to calm down. He didn’t dare to look up again.

He gathered his bags as calmly as he could with his shaking frame, not looking up, not once, because despite his promise he dreaded Iwaizumi Hajime and what he’d think about him.

“Good night, Iwa-chan,” he said as neutral as he could and took his leave to his house. Maybe Hajime wouldn’t hate him in the morning anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I maybe should rename the entire fic "Do I Wanna Know" because really, it seems like every fucking verse gets its own chapter, Jesus Christ. I don't even know where I'm heading with this since it seems kinda mean to let it stop here.
> 
> Please don't hate me.


	4. Sick Of Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So you got your problems  
> So you got it alright  
> Do you have a conscience?  
> Do you have a reason?  
> Well I’m sick of you too.  
> Wonderin’ out the door  
> I am on to you  
> Your comin’ back for more  
> Am I losing you?  
> \- _Sick of Me_ by Green Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The painfest shall go on, now with a matching playlist [[x](https://inkykinky.tumblr.com/post/141601406990/)]

Love was such an unsteady thing. Consistent, but unsteady.

A painful miracle.

Tooru just sighed, staring at the ceiling, throwing his volleyball up and down, up and down, catching with a small slap on his palm, just a few inches from his chest.

Sometimes he was _so done_ and he wanted to quit, but it somehow never quite worked out.

Yeah. Maybe that was the reason why he had kissed Iwa-chan. To quit. To be done and over with this. Love was a stupid, silly thing. Nothing worth crying for. No. It was just silly.

Tooru’s mouth formed a frown.

Yeah. Why was he even lying to himself, it was Iwa-chan he was talking about. If he couldn’t put it to an end, Iwa-chan sure would.

Tooru traced the pattern of the volleyball’s surface, gliding over the seams tentatively, absent-mindedly. He had ruined his most important friendship.

_Ruined. It._

He had delivered a hard punch into his own face, and now he was licking the wounds. This wasn’t just someone from their school who he didn’t have to speak to even again. This wasn’t just a kouhai who had to test his sexuality and would be too scared and embarrassed to ever bring it up again. This wasn’t something he could shrug off because _he didn’t want to just shrug it off._ It was Hajime.

Even Makki would have been okay, _but it was Iwa-chan_ and how would he mend that?

The volleyball got blurry as he threw up once again, and he had to bite his lip to muffle his sobs. Emotions were something horrible, attachment, _the wrong kind of attachment_ , was horrible, stupid crushes were horrible.

Why, for once, couldn’t Tooru throw his affections at someone less close? Why did it have to be Iwa-chan, _straight as a board Iwa-chan_ who probably wasn’t a far cry away from calling him a fag and quitting their friendship forever.

Tooru threw his head into the pillow, squeezing his eyes shut because every realisation hurt. It hurt.

 

When his mother called for dinner, he refused to come down. He wasn’t hungry, even if his stomach was telling him otherwise. Every taste he could remember would have felt awful in his mouth, disgusting, just like him. He was disgusting.

Hajime didn’t text him. Tooru wasn’t sure whether it was good or bad, or if he’d even read the messages if he had gotten any. Sometimes he wondered why he had fallen for Hajime in first place.

Seriously, there were a million and one reasons not to fall for Iwaizumi Hajime, probably the same million and one reasons why he fell for him. This was madness.

Tooru threw the volleyball against the ceiling with a smash, and immediately regretted it as it bounced back against his nose. Fucking perfect.

He felt his face up, as as a hot red liquid dripped from his nose, he rushed to get up and ran into the bathroom.

“Honey, are you alright?” his mother asked from the other side of the door, and Tooru marvelled _how on Earth_ she had noticed this and came upstairs this quickly.

“Y-yeah, I’m… I’m fine, Oka-san.” He furiously shovelled his way through several hair and beauty products with just one hand, the other trying to stop the bloody drops until he finally reached the tissues in the cupboard.

“Are you ill, perhaps? Tooru, should I call you in sick tomorrow?”

“N–no, it’s okay, really!”

“But you didn’t even eat anything tonight! Usually you’re almost starving. What’s wrong, Tooru-chan?”

_Tooru-chan._

Tooru perked up at that. She hadn’t called him that way since… well, in a very long time. He stuffed one tissue into his bleeding nostril, taking the rest of the package with him just in case, and opened the door without putting the care products back to their respective place.

“Tooru!” his mother shrieked as she saw his face and threw her hand up to cover her mouth. Oh yeah, his eyes probably were still puffy from the crying. Yeah.

“It’s nothing, Oka-san…” Tooru tried to calm her down, but his mother had none of that.

“Did you get into a fight in school? Is it that why you weren’t hungry at all? Did somebody punch you in the stomach, that’s something really horrible, I’ll have your father check it–”

“Oka-san, it’s literally nothing, I just served a volleyball into my own face–”

“Oikawa Tooru, I told you you shouldn’t get yourself into fights, always thought you weren’t as rowdy as the other boys, _but alas…_ ” He could read the disappointment in her huff and both her hands on her hips.

“Tooru, listen to your mother, don’t get into fights!” now even his father piped up from downstairs.

“I – I didn’t–!” Tooru tried to argue but he was left without words. _Great._

He took a deep breath as his mother pulled an eyebrow at him, and tried it again. “Oka-san, I’m alright, I just was sad and cried and threw a fucking volleyball at the ceiling so it hit my face. That’s all.”

“No swearing, Tooru!” he heard his father say from somewhere downstairs again.

“I’m a rowdy boy now, I can’t help it~!” Tooru replied to not concentrate on the frown in his mother’s face.

“Tooru, why did you cry, you didn’t cry in a while, you know.” She cupped his face gently, and it was sad to see all the worry in her eyes. Tooru let his head hang down in defeat, his lips pressed in a thin line.

“C’mon darling, let’s sit downstairs, I’ll make us some tea.” She took her son’s hand into her own and led the way slowly, carefully, as though a sudden movement would startle Tooru like a little bun. He felt very much like five then, her warmth the best comfort to a broken anything.

Tooru sat down on the sofa, pulling his knees to his chest and curling into himself to compensate for the loss of his mother’s closeness, even for the short time she was setting up the water kettle. His father sat in the armchair with his newspaper and his reading glasses, but his son apparently had picked his entire interest.

“Tooru, what’s wrong? Someone rude to you?”

Tooru shook his head and bit his lip. The glance of his father was unnerving, as though he had some kind of x-ray powers.

“Heartache.” Tooru wondered whether it was even audible to his parents.

“Heartache…” his father echoed with a surprised pull in his eyebrows, “I always thought you were quite the heart-breaker yourself.”

“I don’t like being one, though.” After a pause, Tooru added, “I don’t like heartbreaks either.”

“It’s okay, Tooru, everyone has to deal with such stuff sooner or later. But life goes on, you know. There are probably a lot of boys and girls queueing up for you anyway. Have fun with those. You’re still young.”

Tooru rolled his eyes.

“But this – this is different. And I – I messed up. I messed up big and I–” Tooru couldn’t speak anymore from the knot forming in his throat, and the first tears tickled down his cheeks. The tissue in his nose became weirdly wet, not just from the blood.

“Hey, darling, it’s okay,” his mother said, sitting next to him and brushing his hair lovingly, “Messing up is normal, you know? And it’s also okay to let others see that. They won’t hate you for it.” She handed him a new tissue from the box next to him.

“But this – this is _different_ , oh gods I don’t even know how to make it up to him, I just –” Again, Tooru was chocking on his tears.

“Why do you need to make it up to – whoever you’re talking about.” His mother turned his head towards her. Tooru winced.

“I kissed Hajime,” he muttered, burying his face into his hands, and groaned.

“Ha-Hajime?!” His mother shrieked in surprise, probably louder than she intended since she slapped her hand over her mouth immediately.

“‘Hajime’ like in ‘Iwaizumi Hajime’?” his father now inquired, curiosity or disbelief laying in his tone. Tooru nodded with a sigh and blew his nose. A smear of drying blood and boogies in the tissue at least signed that his nose had stopped bleeding.

“Oh boy. Oh boy…” his mother now wailed, seemingly on the brick to a mental breakdown. “You kissed Iwa-chan. My son kissed Iwa-chan.”

“Did you tell him _you know_ before?”

Tooru shook his head, still unable to see his parents’ worried faces.

“Had _he_ mentioned _anything_ before? I – is there a reason why you didn’t tell him about _that_?” his mother asked then.

“I – I don’t know! I don’t know why I didn’t tell him, I was scared but I don’t even know why and I just – I don’t even know why I did that? I mean, I do, I do know why I kissed him but I don’t know why. Oh gods, oh gods what do I do?” Tooru poured everything out, surprised how it just worked out of a sudden, and he was shaking. Nothing made sense anymore, the least in his head. His parents just stared at him, trying to grasp what their son had just told them. They seemed shocked, and maybe a bit worried.

“I – I don’t know, maybe it was because he’s so rough and… manly. He’s so strong and I don’t – I didn’t want to disappoint him? I know I’m weak. Maybe I didn’t want it to add up to it. I swear, I didn’t want this to happen but I couldn’t help it, it just happens and now he hates me and it hurts. It’s worse than when he talks with a girl and smiles all the time. It’s worse and it’s driving me mad. I’m horrible.”

“Nah, nah, you’re not horrible, Tooru-chan. He’s just very important to you.” His mother had her arms wrapped around him and caressed his hair.

“I would say, you have it real bad, my son.” His father’s tone was surprisingly neutral and matter-of-factly. Tooru just buried his face further in the crook of his mother.

“Why out of all people Iwa-chan! I hate this! He’s so rude and mean and rough and _I hate this!_ I hate this! I hate him! Who does he think he is?! Being cute like this, and _stupidly handsome_ , making me like this! Bah! I’ll demand him to stop.” It was as though something had flipped a switch, and he was so full of _spite_ and vibrating with energy. Without a further word, he stood up, ignoring the irritated looks of his parents, and left.

“Tooru? Tooru-chan? What about the tea?”

But he was too caught up in the thoughts riling through his head that he could register his mother’s pleas. With quick, big steps he went upstairs to his room, and locked the door.

And then, out of a sudden, the rush of the moment was gone. He stood there in the middle of his room, and cried.

 

Tooru didn’t know when he fell asleep. He was entirely lost to time and space, and cried a lot. At least that was what his still damp pillow told him first thing in the morning.

With a quick look into the mirror he not only didn’t feel like shit but also looked like it, and he preferably would have gone back to bed and sleep for the next month or so. He really didn’t feel like going to school, even less like going to morning practice for everyone to see his misery, and the least he wanted to see Hajime. He wanted to throw up just by the thought of it.

He somehow managed to make the bags under his eyes less visible so he didn’t look like a complete mess at the breakfast table. Thankfully, none of them inniciated a conversation, only demands of this or that were placed, so Tooru didn’t have to say an utter word. His father was making bentos for the three of them, and apparently none of his parents minded the one or two (actually three) milk breads that were added to Tooru’s box.

On his walk to school, he was alone. Iwa-chan apparently chose to not meet him at their usual corner, and Tooru didn’t mind. Perhaps it was better that way. He felt oddly numb.

As Tooru arrived at the gym, Hajime was already there, practising serves, apparently unaware of Tooru’s presence. The strength of the serves shook Tooru quite a bit, but he didn’t say anything.

So it was like _that_.

Nobody else of the team seemed to notice something was off, or they didn’t mention anything. Everything went by in a blur, and sooner than Tooru had expected practice was over, and their lessons too. Evening practice was just as uneventful, and it was unsettling. Hajime didn't wait for him to walk home.

This went on for roughly a week, one day blurring into the next, every break giving Tooru an unsettling stomach ache, but then again nothing happened, and he just stared into nothingness while everyone else was eating or chatting with others. Hajime didn't text. He didn't call. Almost as though they didn't know each other. It was maddening. It was painful.

At least Tooru now knew that he did it wrong. He fucked up. Officially fucked up, and there weren't even any girls who seemed worried as it ususally were.

He barely registered when people were filing out for their lunch break, and still sat there, staring into nothingness for most of the time like it was a new habit too easily picked up. At some point he heard a familiar laughter, and saw Makki walking together with Matsun down the corridor, probably on their way to the vending machine. How he envied them.

A knock tore him out of his regrets, and in the otherwise unusually empty class room stood Hajime with his default serious expression. Tooru gulped.

“I–Iwa-chan! You here?” Tooru’s voice had jumped approximately three octaves higher than usual, his guts curling and twisting inside him, and he felt so, _so_ sick. Internally, he was begging for every second he could drag this silence out further, but the gods weren’t gentle on him that day. Hajime’s eyes never left his face with his presumably angry glare, and Tooru’s heart sunk to the floor.

“We need to talk.”

No Oikawa. No insults. Just ‘We have to talk.’

At this point, Tooru was ready to be pushed down the stairs, getting hit into his guts, his face, getting humiliated in any possible way, called a fag, a freak, an _abnormality_ if Hajime pleased. Getting yelled at what a horrible, horrible human being he was. He would have been okay with lying on the floor, wincing, crying from pain and hurt. The entire week had been the calm before the storm, and now Tooru expected a storm to come. But talking wasn’t like Hajime. He was so hard to read, Tooru knew he was serious but he couldn’t even guess where this was heading to.

He wasn’t good at talking about this.

He didn’t even know what to say.

Hajime hadn’t moved away, not an inch, he still stood there, staring at Tooru with this serious expression, and Tooru’s throat tightened more and more.

He nodded silently and stood up. If Hajime wanted to talk, then at least somewhere where Tooru could breathe.

“I need some air,” he said with a hoarse voice, and left the room. He had a vague idea where he was heading to, but he was walking like on autopilot. Up the stairs, higher and higher, the roof. No-one liked to come up here if it wasn’t truly necessary, the other roof-tops offering way more comfort than this one.

Tooru leaned against the handrail, letting his head hang low and his shoulders slack. It barely loosened the discomfort, but it was better than the class room downstairs, and the sun was shining, leaving warmth on his skin.

“Why did you do this?”

Tooru jerked away at the sound of Hajime’s voice up so close.

No. They weren’t close. There were at least two metres between them, and Tooru felt like he lost the ground underneath his feet. He felt the panic rising inside, and his hand clasped around the handrail, knuckles turning white.

He barely dared to look up at Hajime’s face, too scared to see the anger behind his eyes, but it wasn’t there.

Hajime seemed confused and desperate.

“Why… why did you do this?” _This was the exact same expression he had worn that night._ It was hard to breathe.

_What a horrible friend I am._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SORRY OKAY  
> at least you can now enjoy the music
> 
> I feel horrible, especially for Hajime. Poor boy. (His POV will be next, no worries)


	5. Dead Ends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the poets are just kids who didn't make it  
> \- _I've Got A Dark Alley And A Bad Idea That Says You Should Shut Your Mouth (Summer Song)_ by Fall Out Boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeeeeeeeere weeeeeeeeeee goooooooooo  
> Heeeere wee gooo agaaaiinn
> 
> I'm sorry. Now, Iwa-chan, the stage is yours. (If you look up the FOB lyrics you know what will come after this chapter holy Molly)

It had taken too long, the distance between them even though they were so close, too close. The way back from the station to their respective houses felt like forever and yet so short.

_The first. Always the first, Hajime._

Why was it _bothering_ him so much? They were just girls, and by far not the only ones if he kept track of Tooru’s record properly. He didn’t even know their names anymore, why should Hajime anyway, it’s nothing a friend needs to remember if there’s another every other week. They were nice, probably, good-looking for sure. Maybe he just didn’t expect Tooru to wistfully think back to his first times.

Maybe he was exaggerating. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw Tooru with a girl, let alone talk about one after the break-up with what-was-her-name-again. Hajime didn’t know why he didn’t remember her name. Maybe he didn’t want to. Tooru probably wasn’t hiding anyone either. They just were around, per usual. Nothing else.

There were other things to focus on.

“Night.”

It felt like the only thing Hajime could say after the silence between them. He still stood there, wanted to say more but he could not, not when Tooru looked at him, surprised, sad, scared. Hajime wondered what he had done to Tooru, since this was becoming worse.

“Good night, Iwa-chan,” he said with a pressed smile.

_Other things to focus on. Things to_ hide _._

“Tooru.” A miracle that even the faintest noise escaped Hajime’s throat. Tooru’s eyes once again flew up to his face, and he looked so _exhausted_.

“Yes?”

Tooru’s voice was _broken_. Why, why, _why--_

“Why… why do you hide so much? Why do you– why do you still act in front of me? We’ve been friends for basically my whole life, why do you still do this?” Hajime didn’t know how he managed to spill this out, his mouth was talking without his brain to check, and Tooru looked as though he was caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“I… I don’t–” Tooru started, but Hajime was done with it.

“Don’t talk bullshit, Shittykawa!” he yelled, louder than he wanted, too desperate for his own taste but words couldn’t be taken back, Tooru jerking away couldn’t be taken back. He was _scared_ of Hajime.

“Why do you always have to be so mean?” Tooru sounded like a small child, accusing, and somehow, Hajime lost it.

“Oh shut it, Assikawa! Don’t evade my questions like that!”

“Then don’t ignore mine!” Tooru yelled, glared at him, actually _glared_ at him, something he actually never did, and he knew he had overstepped a border when he saw how Tooru’s eyes turned glassy and dropped his gaze.

Hajime did fuck up.

“It – it hurts when you – y-you call me like that, every time, a-and it’s – it’s only me, but I know that’s – that’s probably what men do with their friends, b-best friends, but it still hurts and makes me feel like – yes, _shit_ , basically, and… I don’t know, maybe it just hurts more coming from you, maybe it’d be nothing if you didn’t mean so much to me, because you _do_ mean a lot to me, and I don’t want that to change, but I feel so goddamn worthless, and I just.” Tooru stopped. Hajime still stood there, frozen in place, surprised by the outpour, and guilt crippled through him like an icy rain shower.

“You just… wouldn’t listen,” he tried to defend himself, and in the very moment knew it was ridiculous. Didn’t Tooru know? Was he really so _blind_ that he didn’t understand that he cared for him so much? “You are so self-destructive you don’t even notice anymore, you don’t notice when it’s too much, I’m just taking care of you–”

“SO DO I!”

Hajime jerked at Tooru shouting at him in despair. Tooru didn’t have such outbursts. Tooru didn’t raise his voice, didn’t shout.

“There are things you’re not _supposed_ to see, Iwa-chan, the world has so many ugly faces, _I_ have so many ugly faces, you shouldn’t know, why don’t you _understand_ –”

This was too much. Didn’t he know? _Didn’t he know?!_ “I want to. I _try_ to. But _you don’t let me_ –”

“Can’t you imagine why?” The last sentence had been another whiplash into Hajime’s face, and it hurt. Tooru had taken a step forward, and he wouldn’t be surprised if he’d actually jump at him. It was like bearing his fangs.

“No,” he said, trying to calm himself, bringing control over the situation back, even for just a little bit. “I’ve never been as brilliant as you, Tooru. Maybe I’m just – I’m just too dumb to _get it_ , or – or too insensitive, too unobservant, maybe I’m the wrong person for – for all of this, but I really, really wish I could be that person for you, someone to confide in, because I _hate_ to see you suffer under whatever the fuck you think you need to carry alone. I – I want to be the one who stays with you ‘til the end.”

Tooru perked up. If Hajime was honest, he was surprised with what he had said himself.

“W-would you really stay, no matter what?” The disbelief in Tooru’s voice hurt, but this little sliver of hope laid in his eyes, and that was enough to make up for it. He had stayed throughout the years, of course he would. It was nearly insulting how Tooru couldn’t grasp that.

“No matter what.”

“E-even if – if I killed someone?”

Hajime had to bite back a snort at that. _Why on earth should Tooru kill someone, he was being ridiculous._

“I guess, yeah.”

“Cheating? Stealing? Just, really, the worst thing you could imagine, you’d stay with me, yeah?” Tooru’s insecurity almost sounded … _cute_.

Hajime wanted to slap himself for that.

“Yeah.” He didn’t like how hopelessly lost he sounded, but that’s what Tooru made of him.

“No hard feelings whatsoever?”

Hajime hadn’t notice how close they were until every centimetre of his skin was tickling with an odd anticipation, it felt a little like the first warms sunbeams on his skin after a long, cold winter.

“No. You could probably get away with anything.” It was as simple as that.

Tooru nodded.

“Okay.”

He seemed nervous, taking a deep breath and all, as though he had to jump off a cliff of at least thirty metres.

Everything that followed was a kiss.

Hajime froze.

“Good night, Iwa-chan,” Tooru said as he pulled away, gathering his bags, and left. Hajime just stood there, and stared.

***

Hajime didn’t know how long he actually stood there, neither did he know how long he watched Tooru becoming smaller and smaller until he vanished behind a corner towards his home.

He still could feel Tooru’s lips on his, his fragrance still in the air even minutes or possibly hours after Tooru had left, and all Hajime could do was marvel over the feeling of it. A warm breeze made his heart flutter at how soft everything was, his lips, the kiss, _his_ everything if Hajime just had looked close enough. The realisation made him feel even more fuzzy and his brain was probably rendered useless for the next five weeks, but it felt so good and oddly painful, with a bitter-sweet aftertaste on his tongue.

He walked home in some kind of trance, still trying to grasp what had actually happened just then, _how_ this happened, _why_ this happened in first place. He removed his shoes at the front porch, walking upstairs to his room, and stood still.

_Why had Tooru been so scared to tell him? Why did he need to ask all those useless questions, why had Tooru left, why…_

Why was he feeling that way.

It was odd with what kind of buzz he was filled, how he craved … _this_ , whatever this was, how he could feel so giddy and blissed out just thinking about--

“I hate you, Oikawa Tooru.”

This was what everybody was talking about. This was what people wrote songs for and wrote ridiculous poems he had to memorise for his exams, this was the reason why people went to mixers and married, built houses, bought hideous flowers and dressed awkwardly. And he simply found it on the playground to pick it up more than ten years later.

Iwaizumi Hajime was in love.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Iwa-chaaan!! I'm sorry what I will do to you. So fucking sorry, dude. Ah.
> 
> shoot me.

**Author's Note:**

> Comment if you liked! Also kudos are also highly appreciated :3
> 
> you can also find me on tumblr ([fan blog](http://inkykinky.tumblr.com) | [art blog](http://inkythoughts-art.tumblr.com)) and [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/inky_thoughts)


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